


The Great Rise of a Great King

by beksdragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beksdragon/pseuds/beksdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been almost a millenia since Merlin lost the best friend he had ever had. Almost a century since he had lost so many people that he cared about. He went about his business, finding and losing people all the while, and now he enters the 21st century as an old frail sorcerer, but still very much alive.</p><p>When he experiences a night filled with a magic that could change, not just his world, but the whole planet he lives on, what could it possibly mean?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Merlin continued his daily walk from the town, past Avalon, and back to the small cottage he lived in on the side of the forest. Right next to a main road, unfortunately, but with the perfect view of the island he had once sent his best friend sailing towards.

 

Today, he was feeling young but looking older than ever. Before he left home he had pulled his white hair into a ponytail, combed his beard, and pulled a green woollen hat over his head. It felt as though it had been millennia since he had been full of life, his hair still short and jet black, and his life full of promise. In reality, it was close to that. 1965 years, to be exact. Still he dreamt of the Great Dragon and his words - dreamt that Arthur Pendragon would rise again - even though it had been more than one lifetime since he had last seen him.

 

It was agonising, growing old. Especially when Merlin could not seem to die. He watched his friends disappear one by one while he continued to live. In the last 50 years he had become grumpy and ill-tempered. He stayed away from other people, avoided all human contact apart from the people on the tills at the supermarket and the lovely lady at the tearoom he frequented on a daily basis. He'd lost everything he had known already, he didn't fancy losing anything more.

 

He glanced over at Avalon as he walked past. He was hit by a feeling so intense he was almost knocked off his feet. He stumbled and slowed to a stop, holding onto the wall by the side of the road. Merlin hadn't felt that shockwave hit him in many, many years, yet it was unmistakable - magic. A positivity settled into the pit of his stomach when he looked back at the green hill in the middle of the lake. He studied it painfully but he couldn't see a change in the earth, the stones, the water. It looked exactly the same as it had every other day he had walked by it, yet he felt different about this time.

 

With one last sweeping glance over the scene in front of him, Merlin continued his walk home. He continued with his usual routine. Once he was inside his house, he dropped the keys onto the table beside the door. He shrugged his waterproof off his shoulders and hung it on the peg by the door, along with his hat. He pulled the wellies off his feet and stretched his toes before making his way into the kitchen. He boiled the kettle - one of the old black ones you put on the stove which let out a high-pitched scream when the water had boiled - and made himself a warm meal. That changed from day to day, but he didn't like to spend too long cooking. He would drink his tea while he waited for his food and grab a glass of water to accompany his food. Once he had eaten, he would watch the television for an hour or so, then head upstairs for a shower and turn in for the night.

 

Over the centuries his routine had changed. At first, he mourned, like everyone did. Gwen had been insistent that he take time off. She was the only one who had any inkling as to exactly how much Merlin and Arthur had meant to one another. They were just as close as she had been with him, probably even closer. It wasn't just the relationship between a king and his servant they shared, but a relationship between brothers. Blood or not. Merlin had lost more than one friend in the ordeal. Gwaine, who he had been very good friends with, was lost. Other knights had been lost, all Merlin's friends as much as they had been Gwen's. After a month, he slowly fell back into routine. He would run errands for Gaius, serve the queen as he had the king, and do anything else that was required of him.

 

As years went by Merlin watched new things get invented and the culture change, moulding to new religions and scientific discoveries. He had adjusted to each new turn and each new age. He'd seen millions of foretold apocalypses, none of which had come true. He saw the turn of an age, more than once. His life was average. It was alright. But it was nothing special, and it hadn't been since Arthur had died.

 

For the first time in a long time, Merlin retired to his bed in a good mood. He was feeling positive. Happier than he had been in centuries.

 

Unbeknown to Merlin, the magic he had felt that afternoon was still brewing and becoming more powerful on Avalon. The Great Dragon's prophetic words were coming true, as they always had done. The King would rise again, but not as Merlin had ever expected. The magic had been building for 25 years and it was now at its climax.

 

For anyone who had been watching the small island in the middle of the lake that night, they might have seen light swirling around it. They might have seen the very land they were standing on move and change beneath their feet. They may have seen the small village Merlin travelled to every single day change into the Camelot he so sorely missed. A changed Camelot, of course, but a small kingdom all the same.

 

Merlin rolled over in his sleep, onto his stomach. That was something he hadn't done since he was a young man living in Camelot. His hair didn't fall into his face that night, in fact it seemed to shred and disappear in the night, leaving behind short, jet-black, hair in its wake. His beard didn't get caught underneath him, because that seemed to disappear too. His wrinkles sunk into his skin, leaving a fresh-faced young man sleeping in his bed. His mouth slipped open and a soft snore slipped out as his arm dangled over the side of the bed. The magic surrounded his house and his sleep became restless. His eyebrows pulled together and his eyes squeezed further shut while it did its work during the night.

 

Everything changed that night. The magic that had almost knocked Merlin off his feet transformed his world forever, and it was something that he had been wishing for for 1965 years.


	2. Chapter 1

Merlin let out a low groan as he stretched himself out. The orange morning sunlight was creeping into his bedroom through a small crack in the curtains. It had been working its way up his face and, now that it was in his eyes, he was waking up. Every morning, Merlin awoke promptly at 6:20, ready for the day ahead. This morning the digital clock beside his bed read 10:17am. Merlin glanced at it and did a double take, thinking he’d read the time wrong. His eyes widened when he realised he hadn’t misread it and stretched.

 

This morning he felt younger than he had done in as long as he could remember. He ran his hand through his hair – a habit he had developed to get his long hair out of his eyes – and was confused to find his hair felt shorter today. _I must still be half asleep_ , he thought, _I wonder why I slept for so long_.

 

He dragged himself out of bed, still clad in his plaid pyjama set. He lazily made his way to the bathroom, ready for his morning routine. His eyelids were still heavy when he stood in front of the mirror above the sink. He made little effort to look at his reflection while he picked up his toothbrush and the toothpaste. When he looked up, though, he dropped both objects into the sink and took a small step away from the sink. Staring back at him, through the reflective glass, was a young version of himself. A version of himself he hadn’t been for almost 2000 years.

 

His reflection continued to stare back at him as he studied himself. The mirror must be lying, but when he wiped it, when he ran his hand over his face over and over again, it seemed more and more likely that maybe it wasn’t. Can mirrors be broken? Merlin thought about it for a while before coming to the conclusion that, no, they can’t unless they’re in pieces on the floor.

 

The sun was beginning to get high in the sky now. He looked down at his hands, no sign of wrinkles to be seen. Merlin looked back up at himself. This was crazy. This couldn't be happening. But of course it could, he told himself, he'd seen crazier in his lifetime. Hell, he was _immortal_ , for crying out loud! Maybe he was dreaming.

 

It was when he was running down the stairs that Merlin realised that he wasn’t dreaming. He slipped halfway down the staircase and fell in a heap at the bottom. He had always been clumsy. Now his back was hurting. As he unfolded himself and stretched himself out on the floor, he heard movement outside. He shot up, a pain bolting through his back, but ignored the wince that usually would have donned his face.

 

He scrambled to his feet and quickly made his way into the living room. He peered out of the window into his garden, glancing around outside. When he was satisfied that no one was there he let his gaze wander across the view he had of Albion, his eyes widening when he saw the boat on the bank.

 

Merlin had never dressed so fast. Now, he had clothes that brought him comfort, rather than bothering to blend in. In other words, he dressed as any other old man would have, except now he was an old man no longer, and he made a mental note to buy some new clothes. He could also only find the pair of wellies he had worn every day for the past god knows how many years. New shoes too, then.

 

It was a good job the bank of the lake was just across the road from Merlin’s small cottage or he might have exploded from the anticipation that was building up inside of him – or at least that’s how he felt. It was also a good job there was no traffic because he didn’t look before he crossed the road.

Mumbling, “Astyre,” he jumped into the rowing boat just as it took off towards the small island it must have come from. He was shaking by the time he fell onto the grass of the bank on the island. He ran up the stone in the centre before looking around. He had a perfect view of everything yet he could see nothing unusual. He didn’t know what else could have happened. It _had_ to be something to do with Albion. _It had to_.

 

His shoulders sagged as he turned back to the small boat. A silver glint caught his eye as the sun peeked through the cloud. Merlin’s jaw dropped open as he watched the very sword he had thrown into this lake rise out of the water again. He was even more surprised to see a whole arm rise out of the lake, followed by a head and shoulders. Merlin thought maybe a whole body would come out of the water and stand on its surface, but the shoulders were as far as it got.

 

As quickly as it had appeared, the man from the lake disappeared behind the fog that was now spreading across the water. Merlin’s eyes darted around where he had seen him and he ran back to the boat, sailing over to where it had been. It was only when he bumped back into the bank he had come from that he realised the man must be gone. He looked over his shoulder at the misty lake and frowned.

 

“Prosm tohweorfe,” he said, sending a small wind through the air around him and dissipating the mist that had gathered over the water. His frown deepened when the man with the sword was nowhere to be seen.

 

Merlin stayed in the boat for a long time, just looking across the lake. When he finally got out and onto dry land, his thoughts were racing. He had no idea if what he had just seen had been real or whether it was just a trick of his imagination. Either way, he had a lot of thinking to do about a lot of things.

 

First things first, he thought, he was young again, so he had to dress like he was young. The very last thing Merlin ever wanted was to be noticed. If people noticed him, they noticed that he didn’t die. That raised questions, and more noticing; both things he didn’t want. He went home to collect some money, then began the hour long walk into the village.

 

The air seemed alive with magic. Merlin could feel it wherever he went. It wasn’t just around Albion, around his home, it was everywhere. He looked around with a new lease of life. The village seemed deserted. On the way past the garage, Merlin paused for a second. It had been a long time since he had driven a car. He tried it to fit in, but it wasn’t his thing. For almost many years he had used horses to get around then suddenly these things were gallivanting around, making lots of noise and beeping at people. Maybe it would be useful.

 

It turned out to be very useful. Though it took him a little while to remember how to drive the thing, he found it was much easier to get from the village to his house and even back again if he needed to. He could even venture further, if he wanted to.

 

He spent the afternoon finding a safe place to park his car and unpacking his new clothes. He spent the night watching Albion. Even a week later, despite nothing out of the ordinary happening (apart from Merlin getting seemingly younger), he could still feel the magic hanging in the air around him.

 

After a month, however, he began to lose hope. He supposed maybe it was just part of his immortality. After three months, he knew that’s what it was.

 

He was staring out of his window, straight over to the lake opposite his house, when a knock on the door startled him out of his trance. It was only then that he realised rain was pounding against the window. When whoever was outside knocked again, Merlin got to his feet to answer.

 

Merlin thought his heart had stopped when he opened the door to a young blonde man with startlingly blue eyes. Had what he had seen in the lake actually been real? Could this be him? Merlin recognised the face even before he looked up from the paper he was holding to look Merlin in the eyes. He smiled, pushing the paper into a hand he was already holding bags with, “I’m Arthur,” he said cheerfully, reaching out a hand, “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Yeah,” Merlin said, dragging out his words as he shook Arthur’s hand, “I’m Merlin.”

 

Arthur continued to smile while Merlin took in the man standing in front of him. It was strange to see Arthur after so many years, especially in modern clothing. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Kilgharrah had been right; Arthur would rise again. This gave Merlin a mixture of emotions because it meant two things: Merlin had his best friend back, and the magical community was in trouble again. He supposed they had been lucky to last so long, but what could possibly be wrong now? Everyone thought these creatures and people were myth and legend, surely they couldn’t outlaw it again? Another thing that was bothering Merlin was that Arthur didn’t seem to recognise him.

 

“Is this a bad time?” Arthur asked, studying Merlin’s expression.

 

Merlin mentally shook himself, “No, of course not. What can I help you with?”

 

“Well, I saw this ad on the board in the village,” he explained, handing the piece of paper he had to Merlin, “I was wondering if the room is still free.”

 

The ad was something Merlin had never seen before in his whole life, yet there was a picture of his home and the spare room he had across the hall from his own bedroom, and some lines scribbled in his own handwriting with the address and price of rent. He didn’t question it, though, not when he had the opportunity to have Arthur back in his life.

 

“It is, actually,” he smiled, forcing himself to look back into Arthur’s innocent eyes, “You’re interested?”

 

“Yes. I just moved here and I found myself without anywhere to stay. There was a mix up on the lease where I was supposed to be living, so when I saw the ad I came straight here.”

 

Merlin nodded, “You can move in today then.”

 

Arthur’s eyes widened, “Are you serious? I can?”

 

“Of course! Unless you wanted more time to sort your things out?”

 

“No, no, today would be perfect! Thank you so much!” Arthur grinned, collecting his belongings from around him.

 

“I’ll show you to your room,” Merlin smiled, reaching forward to help Arthur carry his things inside.

 

Amongst six suitcases and bags of things, Arthur had some boxes of pictures and collectable ornaments, of sorts. When Merlin suggested he dot them around the house (because he needed some life injected into it, since it had been an old man’s simple home for so many years), Arthur grinned and thanked him.

 

It took three trips to get all of his stuff up the stairs and into the spare room. The room was nothing special. It was white, mostly, apart from the light blue bedding. Merlin told Arthur he could redecorate if he wanted, add his own touches wherever he wanted.

 

“Thank you. I really appreciate it, Merlin,” Arthur smiled, looking around the room.

 

“No problem,” Merlin shrugged, “The bathroom is just down the hall, to your left. The living room is at the bottom of the stairs and you go straight through that into the kitchen. We have gardens as well, so if you’re into gardening, those are there.”

 

Gardening was a pastime Merlin had found to be quite interesting. It gave him something to do in the summer especially. He was almost offended when Arthur let out a hearty laugh.

 

“No, thanks. I’m not into any of that stuff.”

 

“Of course not,” Merlin mumbled.

 

“Erm, that’ll be all, Merlin,” Arthur said, still looking around, “Thank you.”

 

Merlin raised his eyebrows. There was the Arthur he remembered. He had been enjoying the kindness he was receiving, now Arthur was sounding like the king he had once been. When Merlin didn’t move, Arthur looked back at him.

 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound so-”

 

“It’s fine,” Merlin cut in, “I’ll leave you to it.”

 

He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face when he left and jogged down the stairs. He went straight to the bookcase and pulled out the oldest of the books there. He sat in the armchair by the window and glanced out before starting to flick through the pages of the book, looking for an answer as to how all of this had happened. He didn’t want to question it, but Arthur must be back for a reason, and he knew he’d need to be prepared for whatever was thrown at them both in the future.


	3. Chapter 2

Merlin was staring at the dust swimming in and out of the sunlight, his hand outstretched beneath it, palm facing upwards, and the dust slowly moved into the form of a dragon, the sunlight seeming to stream out of its mouth. The corner of Merlin’s mouth twitched upwards for a brief moment, only to disappear when his current situation continued to plague his mind.

 

He jumped when a throat was cleared behind him and the dragon dissipated back into dust.

 

“Uh, you said I could put some of my stuff around the house?” Arthur asked when Merlin had turned in his chair to face him.

 

Merlin’s gaze dropped to the box Arthur was holding, “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

 

Arthur dropped the box he was holding onto the sofa and started pulling out photos and awards. Merlin raised his eyebrows as he listed off his achievements.

 

“This one is for fencing. This one is for man of the match, in rugby, and that for football. Oh, and I got this when I took part in a jousting tournament at this weird little village two years ago.”

 

“So you play a lot of sports,” Merlin stated.

 

“Well, I try to,” Arthur answered, not taking his eyes off what he was doing, “My father always pushed me to try them all.”

 

Merlin nodded, “I can believe that.”

 

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and turned to face his new housemate, “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his tone defensive.

 

“Nothing, just that fathers can be very… enthusiastic about their sons playing sports.”

 

“Oh,” Arthur mumbled, “Yes.”

 

Merlin let out a silent sigh of relief when Arthur turned back to the shelf. They both fell back into silence and Merlin returned to gazing out of the window, over to the lake.

 

“Merlin,” Arthur said eventually, “Have we met before?”

 

When Merlin looked back over at him, eyes wide with shock, Arthur was studying him closely. Merlin had to choose his words carefully before he replied. He didn’t want to scare Arthur off in a matter of mere hours. He had to let Arthur remember himself.

 

“Perhaps,” he answered at last, just as Arthur was about to repeat his question, “A very long time ago.”

 

“So you recognise me too?” Arthur’s expression flooded with relief, knowing he hadn’t made a fool of himself.

 

Merlin smiled, “From somewhere, yes.”

“Do you know where?”

 

“I can’t say I do.”

 

“I’ll remember,” Arthur said with full certainty.

 

“Let’s hope so.” Merlin could barely contain his excitement at the prospect of getting his best friend back after all these years. He got up and headed into the kitchen, fearing that he would look like a fool if Arthur turned around and saw him grinning the way he was.

 

Arthur only glanced up as he left, still thinking hard about where he could have seen Merlin before. A party maybe? In the village while he had visited in the last few years? Maybe he had just been a passing stranger. His mop of messy jet black hair could be what he had recognised. Possibly the ears. His cheekbones? Arthur thought all of those things could be definable traits in a person. Maybe it was the scarf that was wrapped around Merlin’s neck, despite them being inside. Arthur wondered whether Merlin always wore a scarf. He couldn’t remember ever wearing a scarf, now that he thought about it. He supposed he had when he was young and his father wrapped him up for the harsh English winters.

 

He stopped unloading his box and put his hands on his hips, his lips sticking out in a pout as he concentrated on trying to recall a memory of Merlin. Nothing came to him, though, and he was left consistently confused.

 

Merlin, on the other hand, was elated. Arthur was back after all these years! He was feeling younger than ever _and_ Arthur could remember him! Well, kind of remember him. Either way he was overjoyed. He had forgotten about the fact Arthur’s return meant Albion was in trouble, he was just happy to have his company.

 

“Hey, Merlin!” Arthur called, “What are you making us for dinner?”

 

Merlin’s smile faltered at the thought of slaving over a stove.

 

“How about some lamb?” Arthur asked, appearing in the doorway, “Beef?”

 

“Chicken,” Merlin countered.

 

“A big chicken?”

 

“Not particularly.”

 

“What are you going to have then?”

 

Merlin paused, “Chicken. Same as you.”

 

“We’re sharing a small chicken?”

 

“Are you telling me you can eat a whole chicken?”

 

“A small one, yes.”

 

Merlin rolled his eyes and walked over to the fridge, “Well, tonight you’re going to have to share.”

 

*          *          *

 

The shrill screams of children filled the small park, even on this dark and dingy evening. Parents were beginning to usher their children towards the exit. Time for tea. Time for a bath. Time for bed. Two teenagers sat on a bench on the other end of the park, sheltered by the tall trees, sharing a number of kisses. A lone young man sat in the centre of a bandstand in the middle of the park. In the summer this bandstand was a place of merriment. A bass band would play while OAPs gathered to listen and families with small children took over the small play-park. Right now, though, only the young man occupied it.

 

A woman collecting her small son looked over at the 20-year-old. She quickly pushed her boy away from the playground when she took in his shadowy expression. The park quickly become quiet and the man looked up and around the bandstand he was sitting in. He looked over at the teenage couple still sitting on the bench, whispered something under his breath, and his eyes changed to an amber colour. Suddenly the couple, who had been kissing, were flown apart and off the bench, onto the ground about 20 feet away from where they had originally been sitting.

 

The man got to his feet, shoved his hands into his pocket, and slowly left the park in silence. Now he had a smile on his face, his brown eyes sparkling with an unusual happiness.

 

*          *          *

 

Merlin had seemed to fall into old routines quite easily. He listened to Arthur’s mindless, arrogant chatter and cooked him a delicious meal. They sat together and, much to Merlin’s surprise, Arthur complimented his cooking. He was happy. And he was welcoming his new life.

 

“So, _Mer_ lin, what do you do for fun around here?” Arthur asked, dropping into Merlin’s chair by the window.

 

“Whatever you feel like,” Merlin answered, leaning against the doorframe, “The garden’s out there, like I told you already, or you can go for a walk. There’s some shops in the village, if you like that sort of thing. You can rent boats on the lake, too.”

 

Arthur stared at Merlin for a moment before replying, “There’s no bars? Clubs? Restaurants?”

 

“Well, there’s a pub in the village and a small Italian restaurant as well.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

Merlin shrugged, “What did you expect in the middle of the countryside?”

 

“A little bit more than _that_.”

 

“You probably shouldn’t have.”

 

“Have you lived here all of your life?” Arthur asked after a moment of silence.

 

“Most of it, yes,” Merlin replied, disappearing into the kitchen.

“Dunno how you survived,” Arthur mumbled, his comment out of Merlin’s earshot. He pushed himself out of the chair and made his way to his room to look for something to do. Merlin was quick to reclaim his armchair by the window, settling himself into the seat. He held out the sweet he had in his outstretched hand and the sweet took off into the air. He smiled. He felt more powerful than ever yet here he was making hardboiled sweets float above his hand. He leant forward and closed his mouth around the sweet.

 

“That’s a cool magic trick.”

 

Merlin jumped, almost choking on his sweet at the sound of Arthur’s voice.

 

“How do you do it?” Arthur continued.

 

Merlin coughed, cleared his throat, and calmed himself down before thinking up an answer.

 

“A magician never reveals his tricks,” he winked.

 

Arthur chuckled, “You’ll have to teach me one day. I like magic tricks.”

 

Merlin grinned, his gaze settling on what Arthur was holding for the first time. He raised his eyebrows at the football in Arthur’s hand.

 

“Want to have a kick-about?” Arthur asked when he noticed Merlin had seen what he was holding.

 

“I don’t really know how to play.”

 

The truth was, Merlin could remember how football had started. He had watched as the villagers had passed his home. Hundreds of men from neighbouring villages kicked about rocks and hard balls, punching and kicking each other. Once he even saw a man stab someone from the other town. People died playing football in the beginning, and that had always put him off the sport.

 

“I’ll teach you. Come on, don’t be a spoilsport.” When he got no reply, Arthur shifted his weight onto one foot and leant forward, “ _Merlin_.”

 

“It’s not really my thing, Arthur.”

 

“I don’t care whether it’s your ‘thing’, Merlin. I’m bored, you’re bored.”

 

“I’m not b-”

 

“We need something to do. So come on.”

 

It was an argument Merlin knew he wouldn’t win. He lifted himself out of his chair with an exaggerated sigh, receiving an eye roll from Arthur, and followed his new housemate outside. The old Arthur shone through into this reincarnation and, despite complaining about being ordered around, Merlin was happy to have him back.


	4. Chapter 3

Arthur watched Merlin with raised eyebrows, his hands on his hips while Merlin struggled into the fencing gear Arthur had given him. It turned out that Arthur still did a lot of the things he had awards for, because if you don’t practice you won’t stay perfect (if you ever reach perfection in the first place, which, in Arthur’s personal opinion, he had done). He had enlisted Merlin’s help in keeping himself in shape but, if the way he was fighting with the protective clothing was anything to go by, it wasn’t going to be a challenge to beat him.

 

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked when Merlin fell backwards, landing arse-first on the grass of his back garden.

 

“Yes, fine,” Merlin mumbled, pushing himself back onto his feet.

 

“Maybe this isn’t the best idea. Are you sure there are no fencing clubs near here instead?”

 

“Fairly sure, yes. I did tell you to go into town to have a look.”

 

“That’s another thing – why don’t you have a car?”

 

Merlin stopped trying to dress and looked up. “I can’t drive,” he lied. He had abandoned the whole driving fiasco a good two months ago.

 

“You’re how old and you can’t drive?” Arthur asked sceptically, “Why on earth did you decide to live in the middle of nowhere if you couldn’t drive?”

 

“There’s a bus stop just down the road,” he said defensively, “And walking is good for you. It keeps me young.”

 

Arthur laughed, “You’re not ninety years-old, Merlin.”

 

 _No, I’m actually a lot older than that_ , Merlin thought, hitching the jacket further onto his shoulder. When he realised he had won the argument, Arthur smiled and continued watching Merlin get ready in silence.

 

“Now, you know the rules, don’t you?” he asked.

 

“No,” Merlin answered curtly.

 

Arthur brought his sword up, his blade waving up to Merlin’s face. Merlin jumped back, gripping his mask.

 

“The head, arms and legs are out-of-bounds,” Arthur explained, pointing his blade at each of Merlin’s body parts, “The torso is the target area.”

 

Merlin looked down at himself, “The whole torso?”

 

“ _Yes,_ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur droned, “The whole torso.”

 

He pulled his mask on, allowing himself to smile at the terrified expression Merlin was wearing as he put his own mask on. Arthur launched himself forward and, before Merlin could even take in what was happening, extended his arm, pushing his sword into Merlin’s chest. Merlin watched the sword bend then straighten as Arthur stepped away again.

 

“Come on, Merlin, at least _try_.”

 

He stepped forward again, jabbing Merlin in the stomach this time. When Merlin stepped away Arthur followed, continuing to push his blade into Merlin’s stomach. By the time Merlin got annoyed enough to fight back, he hit the wall at the back of the garden. Arthur laughed behind his mask, only cut off when a shockwave hit them so hard it pushed them both into the wall. Merlin could feel the magic rolling off that shockwave just as much as he could feel Arthur’s body pressed against him. Speaking of which, Arthur hadn’t moved yet. It took a few moments for him to shake himself and move away from Merlin, who stretched himself out as soon as he was free from being crushed against his wall.

 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur rambled quickly, “I don’t know what happened. I felt this thing and it pushed me into you and I-”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Merlin cut in, removing his mask.

 

Arthur followed his lead and dropped his mask and blade onto the floor. Merlin was surprised to see the subtle blush on Arthur’s cheeks and couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile.

 

“What was that?” Arthur asked eventually.

 

Merlin shrugged, “I don’t know exactly.”

 

“Does it happen often?”

 

“Only once before this.”

 

When Merlin’s gaze went back to Arthur he found he was being studied carefully again.

 

“I know you,” Arthur mumbled, “I _know_ I know you.”

 

“You remembered?” Merlin asked hopefully.

 

“Not yet.”

 

Merlin sighed. He was beginning to think Arthur was never going to remember. Just when he was on the brink of getting his best friend – his _destiny_ – back all hope was lost. “You’re _such_ a turnip-head.”

 

Arthur raised his eyebrows, “Excuse me?”

 

Merlin’s breath hitched in his throat, his words stuck on his tongue.

 

“Did you just call me a turnip-head?”

 

“I- I-”

 

“You have to think of better insults than that,” Arthur interrupted, “Come on, get your mask back on and we’ll continue.”

 

*          *          *

 

Merlin was exhausted by the time he finally sat down. He had spent the best part of two hours trying to learn how to fence against Arthur then, when he went for a shower, he ended up sitting outside of the bathroom for an hour waiting for Arthur to be done in there and when he finally got in there he had to shower in cold water because Arthur had used all the hot water.

 

His hair was sticking up in all directions after being towel-dried. He leant his head back and closed his eyes. Arthur was silent when he walked into the room, something that was happening uncharacteristically often now that he was living with Merlin. He let his eyes wander over Merlin’s face, his Adam’s apple, his lanky limbs…

 

“Mer-” Arthur cleared his throat when his voice cracked, “Merlin?”

 

Merlin only hummed in recognition, keeping his eyes closed. Arthur was partially glad that Merlin couldn’t see him because he was pretty sure his face was bright red.

 

“I was just wondering if you wanted to order in tonight.”

 

“Oh, so you’re not making me cook?” Merlin smiled lazily, “What’s brought this kindness on?”

 

“I’m nice to you,” Arthur replied defensively.

 

“Maybe, but you still make me cook every night.”

 

“It’s not my fault nobody ever taught me to cook.”

 

Merlin shrugged, “Whatever you say. But takeout could be nice.”

 

“Pizza?”

 

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

 

The feeling of warmth and comfort and familiarity still confused Arthur. He _must_ know Merlin from somewhere. He was sure Merlin knew exactly where from but, if he did, why wouldn’t he tell Arthur about it?

 

“The phone’s in the hall, by the way,” Merlin said, snapping Arthur out of his trance.

 

“Oh, yeah, thanks.”

 

Merlin opened one eye to watch Arthur walk out into the hall. He was acting strange, not like Merlin remembered. There were small parts of the old Arthur shining through, like the way he said, “ _Mer_ lin,” or the way he complained or how he had kept attacking Merlin when they were fencing. Mostly, Arthur was turning out to be quite polite and nice and he blushed. _Blushed_. This Arthur was _different_ , and Merlin was beginning to like him differently. As much as he liked this new Arthur, though, he missed the Arthur he had once known. Although, he supposed, some things have to change when you’re resurrected from the dead; such as things had changed Merlin over his years as an immortal soul.

 

“The food will be here in 20 minutes,” Arthur announced as he made his way back into the room.

 

“How much do I owe you?”

 

Arthur looked at Merlin incredulously, “Nothing. I’m paying.”

 

Curiouser and curiouser, Merlin thought, but he didn’t protest. A free meal was always welcome.

 

“Why don’t you have a TV?” Arthur asked eventually from his seat opposite Merlin.

 

Merlin crinkled his nose. He had never liked the thought of pictures moving. The cinema, he enjoyed from time to time, but he was still adjusting.

 

“I’m not a big fan of television,” he settled eventually.

 

“You’re very old for your age, Merlin,” Arthur observed.

 

Merlin raised his eyebrows, “Is that a bad thing?”

 

“Don’t be an idiot.”

 

“So you’re complimenting me?” he smirked.

 

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur said, shooting him a warning glance.

 

“Shut up?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Prat.”

 

“It’s a good job people don’t use stocks anymore or I’d put you in them.”

 

Merlin could wholeheartedly agree with Arthur on that, it _was_ a good job the stocks weren’t used anymore.

 

Truth be told, Arthur enjoyed Merlin’s quick-wittedness and playfulness. It was very different to the seriousness of the daily life he’d had with his father and adopted sister. They were probably looking for him now, but they’d never find him. Not here. Not with Merlin. Merlin, who had noticed Arthur’s deep frown and was now looking at him with concern.

 

“Is there something wrong?” he asked softly, leaning forward to rest on his knees.

 

Arthur’s gaze flitted between both of Merlin’s light blue eyes as he took in the worry and good will of the gesture. His breath hitched in his throat when Merlin laid a gentle hand on Arthur’s knee, immediately reconsidering and taking it away when Arthur looked down at it.

Arthur cleared his throat, “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

 

He glanced out of the window, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief at the early arrival of the pizza delivery man, and quickly exited the room, leaving Merlin feeling bewildered at both his avoidance of the subject and his reaction when he was comforted.


	5. Chapter 4

Merlin was shaken awake, much to his annoyance. The disturber of his peace refused to cease, even when he batted their hands away.

 

“ _Merlin_!”

 

He only grunted in reply, burying his head in the pillow.

 

“Get out of bed. _Now_.”

 

Merlin would recognise that voice anywhere. In his haziness, he wondered why Gaius hadn’t woken him. He was out of his bed so fast he ended up falling face-first onto the floor.

 

“Sorry, sire, I must have- I mean, I slept in too long, I should have-”

 

“ _Mer_ lin! Calm down!” Arthur asserted, “And why are you calling me ‘sire’?”

 

“I-” Merlin stopped moving, allowing himself a few moments to wake up. _Idiot!_ He was in the wrong century, “I’m sorry. I must have been dreaming. I- What are you even doing in my room?”

 

Arthur looked at his feet, then back at Merlin.

 

“Well, I know you’ve been getting up to tidy and make breakfast for when I get up. You don’t even make me hoover” – hoovers, in Merlin’s opinion, were excellent inventions. They would have made his job in Camelot a hell of a lot easier – “my own room. You do _everything_ , so I thought I’d make us breakfast this morning.”

 

“ _You_ made breakfast?” Merlin asked incredulously.

 

“I _tried_ to make breakfast,” Arthur corrected, “But I burnt just about everything. So I’m taking you out instead.”

 

“You didn’t set fire to anything, did you?”

 

“Don’t worry about it. You needed new wallpaper anyway. It looked just as old as the house does.”

 

“You burnt my wallpaper?”

 

“While I was trying to do something nice,” Arthur pointed out in his defence.

 

“You’re _such_ a dollop-head.”

 

“You need to work on your insults, Merlin. And maybe stop wearing those pyjamas because they’re terrible.”

 

Merlin looked down at himself for the first time, his skinny frame clad in baggy pyjamas he had owned for many years.

 

“Now get dressed,” Arthur commanded, “I’d like to get to the village _before_ they stop serving breakfast at the cafés. And we’re buying a TV and a car today,” he added on his way out of the bedroom.

 

“ _I_ ’m not buying anything!” Merlin quipped.

 

After a few seconds Arthur leaned into the room, a smile on his face.

 

“Fine. _I_ am buying a TV and a car today, so get dressed.”

 

Merlin supposed it was better than being dragged out of bed at the arse crack of dawn to go hunting like he had been in the days of King Arthur. He got dressed slowly, taking care to remember how people in their twenties dressed in this decade. In the end he settled on some jeans and a blue t-shirt, grabbing his jacket and red scarf on his way out. He slipped on his way down the stairs, catching himself with the bannister before carefully making his way to the bottom.

 

“I’m ready, Arthur!” he called while he pulled his boots on.

 

When Arthur met him in the hallway, Merlin noted that he must have made an effort to look so effortlessly handsome. His hair was carefully styled to look messy and his shirt was casually formal, as if, Merlin imagined, he would wear if he was trying to impress someone. Whoever it was, Merlin was sure they’d be impressed.

 

“What?” Arthur asked when Merlin had met him with silence, looking down at himself.

 

“Nothing. You just look… nice.”

 

Arthur smiled modestly, “Thank you, Merlin. Now, lead the way.”

 

Merlin did as he was told, making sure Arthur locked the door on the way out. It turned out that Arthur didn’t know any of the cafés in the village, so Merlin picked one. A quaint little tea shop on the edge of the village that Arthur didn’t particularly enjoy. Merlin got the impression that Arthur still enjoyed hearty meals. Arthur spent most of his time trying to remember where he had seen Merlin wear that outfit before but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He tricked Merlin into choosing a TV to buy about an hour later, then left him at a bookshop while he went to try to sort out a car.

 

In his long lifetime, Merlin had read many books. He particularly enjoyed the tales of the legendary King Arthur and his trusty companion, Merlin. Not many people mentioned that he was actually Arthur’s manservant, a fact that got lost over hundreds of years. A lot of people wrote him as an old man when mankind suddenly decided that witches had wart-ridden noses and warlocks had long white beards and pointy hats with stars on them.

 

When Gwen had legalised magic in Camelot, Merlin prided himself in telling stories of the times he had shared with Arthur (mostly saving his life). Even through all of the recognition he got once Gwen told everyone of the part he had played in Camlann, he had never changed. He had stayed him, just as Arthur had wanted.

 

He bought a few books that he hadn’t seen before, though he’d read most of what the shop had, and went to wait outside for Arthur, instantly changing his mind when he stepped outside. A bunch of teenagers who were obviously looking for trouble stood across the street from him. He winced when he heard them holler at him before he could even get half a dozen paces away.

 

“Oi! Harry Potter!” one of them called.

 

“He doesn’t even have glasses,” another said, pushing his friend hard.

 

A small fight broke out between the two and Merlin took it as a chance to slip away. Unfortunately, the other three boys in the group were still focused on the man in front of them.

 

“Where d’you think you’re going?” one asked.

 

Merlin pursed his lips and turned back to the boys in front of him. He couldn’t exactly fight them all with magic, could he? Nobody believed in that anymore, he’d be exposing himself to ridicule and bringing attention to himself; the very thing he had been avoiding doing for most of his life. So, when one teen dropped his bike and advanced on Merlin he just stood there, bracing himself for the inevitable. The inevitable – which turned out to be a punch in the face so hard Merlin stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, which was promptly followed by a kick in the gut and someone asking for the money he had – was stopped by a gruff shout from behind him. The boys took off as fast as they had appeared and before Merlin could even move he was being pulled off the ground by Arthur.

 

“What did they do to you?” he asked, his eyes frantically taking in all of Merlin as he held him at arm’s length.

 

“Nothing-” before Merlin could make excuses Arthur interrupted him.

 

“It’s not nothing. Your eye is bruising already.”

 

Merlin sighed as Arthur took his hand and marched him in the direction of home. At first, Merlin thought nothing of it, but as they kept walking and Arthur kept holding his hand he began to feel awkward. Arthur only let go (much to Merlin’s relief) when they reached the edge of the village, slowing down slightly to fall in step beside a slightly limping Merlin.

 

“I thought you were buying a car,” Merlin wondered out loud, thinking of how he’d welcome a lift home as he felt a shot of pain in his leg.

 

Arthur shot him a sideways glance, probably thinking the same thing, “I did. I have to pick it up in a few days, though, same day as I get the TV.”

 

Merlin nodded but stayed silent.

 

“What did they want?” Arthur asked tentatively, looking at Merlin properly now.

 

Merlin shrugged, “Money or something.”

 

Arthur pursed his lips, his expression stony.

 

“I shouldn’t have left you alone. I-”

 

“Don’t say it,” Merlin cut in, “You showed up when you did, that’s all that matters. It wasn’t the first time I’ve been beaten up and it certainly won’t be the last.”

 

Arthur frowned, “Still…”

 

“It’s _fine_ , Arthur,” Merlin insisted. He was a lot more caring than Merlin remembered, although, when he thought about it, Arthur had risked his life on several occasions for his manservant and had sent search parties out for him back in the day. So, Merlin concluded, this Arthur must just be a lot more open about his feelings.

 

“So what did you buy?” Arthur asked eventually, glancing down at the bag Merlin was still carrying.

 

“King Arthur legends,” Merlin answered hesitantly, “And a book about magic.”

 

“King Arthur!” he exclaimed with a grin, “I was named after him,” he added matter-of-factly.

 

“Oh, really?” Merlin asked, feigning surprise despite the new information being not at all surprising to him.

 

“Yeah, my sister used to make a point of calling my best friend Sir Leon – his name is actually Leon, by the way – and when she found out Morgana was part of Arthur’s downfall she decided our father had put her in charge of ruining my fun, which she’s managed to do since I was ten.”

 

Everything was slowly slotting into place in Merlin’s mind and he had to try extremely hard not to let it register in his expression.

 

“Your father called your sister Morgana?” It seemed like tempting fate to Merlin.

 

“Oh, no. Her biological parents did. She’s adopted, you see, although you wouldn’t think it. She’s treated like a princess – so a lot better than I am.”

 

“If you want to be treated like a princess we can go back into town and buy you some dresses,” Merlin suggested, smirking when Arthur shot him a playful glare.

 

“I’ll opt out of dressing like a girl, if it’s all the same to you, but if that’s what you’re into I won’t judge.”

 

Merlin smiled, “Is that why you moved out? Because she was getting treated like a princess?”

 

Arthur chuckled, “I have to say it was more the teasing that bothered me.”

 

“What do you think she’d make of King Arthur being united with his great sorcerer?”

 

Merlin watched with amusement as recognition spread over Arthur’s confusion.

 

“Holy… You’re called Merlin!”

 

“Well done, we’ve established you can actually listen to me.”

 

“Shut up.”

“I don’t think King Arthur would talk to Merlin like that.”

 

Arthur raised his eyebrows, “I do. Especially if his Merlin was as utterly stupid as you are.”

 

“Says the man who only just realised his housemate is called Merlin. How long have we been living together now?”

 

“Too long,” Arthur quipped.

 

Merlin was thankful when his old cottage came into view, the pain in his side where he had landed funny becoming worse with every step. When Arthur told him that he’d look at Merlin’s injuries once they were inside he was silently thankful for his reappearance into Merlin’s life and nodded in response. He was just glad he was home.


	6. Chapter 5

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled as he stormed through the castle corridors, “Merlin, where are you?”

 

Gwaine exchanged an amused glance with Leon as Arthur marched past them, clearly on the hunt for his good-for-nothing manservant.

 

“Merlin’s in for it,” he said when Arthur turned the corner, “If I were him I’d be hiding too.”

 

Leon grinned, “I would hate to be him right now.”

 

They both stifled a laugh and listened with great amusement as the King continued his tirade towards Gaius’ chambers, where he was sure Merlin would be. Arthur burst in with so much force that the poor old physician almost dropped the vial he had been holding.

 

“Gaius,” Arthur greeted briefly, “Where is my useless excuse for a manservant?”

 

Gaius looked at him blankly for a moment before replying, “The tavern?”

 

“ _Again_?” the King asked incredulously, “If he thinks he is slacking off for another day he can think again.”

 

With that, Arthur stormed off once more, leaving Gaius still startled and confused and feeling slightly guilty for telling Arthur that Merlin was in the tavern after he had specifically asked him to say anywhere _but_ the tavern.

 

The angry – no, _furious_ – king didn’t have to go far before bumping into a surprisingly sober Merlin, but he was too annoyed to notice how sober his companion was.

 

“You,” he said, his tone holding all the unspoken threats Merlin had known would be thrown at him when he had missed work the day before.

 

“Me,” Merlin echoed slowly.

 

“How many days were you planning on spending in the tavern this time, _Mer_ lin?”

 

Merlin’s face fell, “Gaius told you I was in the tavern.”

 

“Yes, Merlin, he did. And all the while, my chambers are _filthy_ , I have no clean clothes, my armour needs cleaning for the tournament this afternoon, my dogs need exercising, my horses need fed, my fireplace needs sweeping _and_ I haven’t had any breakfast.”

 

“Is that why you’re being a grumpy git?”

 

When Arthur raised a hand to point threateningly at his friend (although he’d never publicly admit that he considered Merlin a friend, obviously), Merlin took a step back to avoid being clobbered over the head.

 

“If I find you have ditched your duties to spend a day in the tavern _one more time_ I will have you hanged, Merlin.”

 

“But what would you do without me?” Merlin beamed.

 

“I’ll take George back.”

 

“You couldn’t handle the brass jokes.”

 

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur warned, “You have two day’s worth of cleaning to do before noon so get moving.”

 

“Before noon?” Merlin repeated, raising his voice high enough to attract the attention of the knights gathered in the courtyard.

 

“Yes.”

 

“How am I-”

 

“That’s not my problem, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur interrupted, “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before abandoning your duties. You know, I can’t even remember what it’s like to have a decent servant.”

 

“Maybe if you weren’t such an ass I’d be nicer to you.”

 

“I should have you put in the stocks.”

 

“But you wouldn’t, because I have to clean all of your stinking clothes.”

 

“My clothes do not stink, Merlin,” Arthur replied defensively, “Speaking of bad smells, you need to muck out my stables, too.”

 

Merlin frowned. Arthur, seeing Merlin’s displeasure, smiled cheerfully and headed back towards his chambers.

 

“Good luck with all of that, Merlin!” Percival called over. Merlin looked over at the knights, who he hadn’t realised had been watching the whole time.

 

“I’ll need it,” he smiled.

 

“MERLIN!” Arthur yelled from an unknown corridor somewhere and Merlin winced.

 

“See you later, Merlin,” Elyan waved.

 

“ _MERLIN_!” Arthur shouted again, and Merlin rushed after him, the knights watching with smiles on their faces.

 

“You really are completely useless, aren’t you, Merlin?” Arthur asked when he’d caught up.

 

Merlin smirked, “You wouldn’t survive without me.”

 

“Merlin, I am certain that my life would be less stressful without you in it.”

 

“You’re such a prat,” Merlin muttered.

 

“It continues to astound me that you talk to your _King_ the way you do.”

 

“Being a king doesn’t make you any less of a clotpole.”

 

“ _Merlin_.”

 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Merlin said quickly, “Being a king doesn’t make you any less of a clotpole, _My Lord_.”

 

Arthur stifled a smile, glancing sidelong at his manservant.

 

“Shut up, Merlin.”

 

Merlin shrugged, “I might.”

 

“I swear to all that is good and holy, Merlin, if you do not shut up I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

 

Merlin held his hands up in innocent surrender, finally ceasing from talking and letting the pair fall into a comfortable silence.

 

The scene slowly dissolved in Arthur’s mind’s eye as he opened his eyes, squinting against the light shining through the gap in his curtains. What a strange dream, he thought, how bizarre was _that_? For some reason, it felt like less of a dream and more of a very vivid memory, which, of course, was impossible.

 

For some reason, the usual sounds of Merlin going about his daily routine weren’t audible to Arthur. This worried him greatly, especially considering the newfound protectiveness he felt over Merlin since the day prior when he had gotten himself in a fight.

 

Arthur pulled on some underwear before staggering, still half-asleep, down the stairs and into the living room. He stopped short when he saw Merlin sitting in his stupid old armchair with a stupid big smile on his face despite the black bruise covering almost one whole side of his face.

 

“I’m glad you’re finally up!” Merlin said cheerfully, lifting himself out of his seat.

 

“You are?” Arthur asked sceptically, using all of his concentration to think of things that wouldn’t make him aroused in any way, shape or form.

 

“Yes, because _I_ , the Great Emrys, am going to teach you how to cook.”

 

Arthur smiled, “The Great Emrys?”

 

“Don’t mock me, Pendragon. Get in the kitchen.”

 

“How do you know my surname?”

 

Merlin looked startled for a moment before looking at Arthur as though he was a simpleton.

 

“Why wouldn’t I know your surname? You are my lodger. I need to research you just in case you’re a serial killer who’s out for my blood.”

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

“But a safe idiot,” Merlin pointed out, “Now _get in the kitchen_.”

 

“I am not your wife, Merlin.”

 

“Well, I didn’t have you down as a sexist pig.”

 

“What? No! I’m not sexist! I was just- I-”

 

Merlin laughed, “Shut up and let me teach you how to make breakfast.”

 

“Fine,” Arthur huffed, making a point to glare at Merlin on his way into the kitchen. He stopped short, once again, when he looked around the gleamingly clean kitchen. Mostly because he noticed that that wretched wallpaper he had burnt off the day before was back in its place. “You put new wallpaper up already?”

 

“Yes,” Merlin said proudly, ushering Arthur over to all the ingredients he had lying about for a full English breakfast.

 

“We should redecorate,” Arthur said carefully, “I know you’ve just put new wallpaper up but… it’s a tad outdated, don’t you think?”

 

Merlin looked around before shaking his head, “Not really. I quite like it.”

 

“You quite like it?” Arthur asked incredulously.

 

“Well, yeah. It’s always been this way, I’ve always had this wallpaper.”

 

“How old is the house, exactly?”

 

Merlin shrugged, “I can’t remember exactly how old it is, somewhere around 900 years old.”

 

“You’re joking!”

 

“Nope. Absolute truth. This house has been in my family for generations,” he lied. He didn’t think Arthur would believe him if he said it had only ever been him in this house.

 

Arthur raised his eyebrows, “Well… wow. I mean, wow. That’s old.”

 

“Yes. And still sturdy as ever,” Merlin grinned proudly. He could remember building the house. Well, his magic had built the house. He hadn’t really put all that much effort in, if he was perfectly honest. The house was bound by a timeless magic almost as old as himself so Merlin was certain that it was never going to fall down. Not as long as he was living, which was apparently an infinite amount of time.

 

“Listen, Merlin, I think that you should maybe make breakfast yourself and not make me partake in the cooking of our meals,” Arthur said, changing the subject unexpectedly.

 

“I’m not making your breakfast for you every morning for the rest of your life.”

 

“Isn’t that what manservants are _supposed_ to do, Merlin?” Arthur asked before he even knew what he was saying.

 

“Maybe you should take a look at how smart kings are supposed to be before you lecture me on how to make your breakfast.”

 

Merlin replied so quickly that it almost felt like the pair were back in Arthur’s dream. He watched Merlin continue to make their breakfast before he must have realised what he had said. When it finally dawned on him and he span around to face Arthur with wide eyes.

 

“Did you just- I- did- did you just call me your _manservant_?”

 

Arthur shrugged, trying to think of an excuse on the spot, “Isn’t that what Merlin was? King Arthur’s manservant?”

 

Merlin narrowed his eyes to study Arthur. How could he possibly know that? Arthur waited to see if he had gotten away with his lie.

 

“Yes,” Merlin answered slowly after a while, “He was.”

 

Arthur inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“But nobody knows that,” he continued, his tone accusatory.

 

“Well, I-” Arthur couldn’t exactly tell him he’d dreamt of Merlin as his manservant, could he? “How do _you_ know that?”

 

Merlin smiled, “You know how I know that.”

 

“Did I tell you about my dream?”

 

Merlin raised his eyebrows and emptied a tin of beans into a pot.

 

“What dream?”

 

“Well, you were there. And Leon. And we were in a castle. I was looking for… for you. You’d been in the tavern-”

 

“I was in the tavern?” Merlin asked, a small smile adorning his face.

 

“Yes, and I was looking for you because everything needed doing and you had done none of it.”

 

“Sounds about right.”

 

“So I didn’t tell you about that dream?”

 

“No, I don’t think so.”

 

“Then, how do you know?”

 

“You’ll see, Arthur,” he answered, looking over his shoulder and into Arthur’s eyes, “Just keep on dreaming.”

 

Arthur stifled a laugh, “We’re not in a musical, Merlin.”

 

Merlin shrugged, “Nothing wrong with musicals. I enjoyed Billy Elliot.”

 

“Why am I not surprised?”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Arthur held his hands up in innocence, “I’m just saying, I’m not surprised.”

 

Merlin let it slide and started rambling about the breakfast he was making, pausing only briefly every now and then for Arthur’s input. Arthur’s comment was forgotten, as was his dream and Merlin’s strange musical line. Arthur enjoyed the smell of the food drifting through the room and ignored most of what Merlin was saying. He almost didn’t want to go to pick up his car and just spend his days talking to Merlin. He was an interesting person, that much was undisputable, and Arthur ached to know more about him.


End file.
